


Blood Stained Hands

by Another_chapter



Category: Batman - All Media Types, DCU, DCU (Comics), Grayson (Comics)
Genre: Angst, Dick is praised starved, I guess you could say he’s spryaling, hurt without comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-23
Updated: 2020-06-23
Packaged: 2021-03-03 19:07:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,643
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24870550
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Another_chapter/pseuds/Another_chapter
Summary: Dick Grayson made a terrible mistake, and it might've changed him forever.His hands were blood stained.This takes place during the Spyral/Agent 37 and Robin War arc, and then it moves onto the Parliament/Raptor arc afterwards.
Comments: 7
Kudos: 67





	Blood Stained Hands

Agent 8's death really struck a chord in Dick. 

He was an agent in a spy organization, and that meant acting like one. Spies did not did not catch feelings for each other, especially when he knew that: one, relationships of any kind were prohibited, and two, he was here as a double agent. 

They were to only work on missions, and sleep together in secret—though the latter was obviously against the rules. Not that they particularly cared. They did it for the pleasure, and, well, maybe to escape their realities. It's not like anyone who would willingly choose to be an agent had the best life going for them.

Still, it hurt when Dick—as Agent 37 _—_ watched the blonde female get shot and fall onto the ground, a small puddle of blood forming beneath her.

She was dead. There was no doubt about it. 

Agent 37 had the eyes. He completed the mission. 

With that being the case, Agent 8 and Christophe Tanner's deaths were just unfortunate inconveniences. The mission was always the priority. Everything they did was for the mission.

It vaguely reminded him of Batman, and his commitment towards Gotham. The Dark Knight would risk it all for that dark city he called home.

As Agent 37 sat on the rooftop, quietly grieving the deaths that could have been easily prevented if he had only been faster, or maybe if he had warned someone, he heard children screaming. The sound was far away, and not because of the distance between them. It was more like Dick's head was underwater, and outside noise was drowned out. It was a familiar feeling in an unfamiliar world. 

"37. 37. Do you copy? Over."

Thirty seven... was that all he was now?

"37. 1. Do you have eyes on Agent 8? Repeat. 37, do you have eyes on Agent 8?"

Agent 1's voice snapped Agent 37 out of the fogginess he was under. 

"37? 37? Agent 37!" Agent 1 demanded through the comms. 

His name was Dick Grayson, _not_ Agent 37. He wasn't going to be apart of this cruel organization for any longer than necessary, and he didn't want a number to associate him with it. He didn't want a _role_ in Spyral. 

If he identified with the code name, he'd become who they wanted him to be. A spy. A killer. 

As unprofessional as it might've been, Dick answered to Agent 1 with, "That's _not_ my name." 

__________

_"You're all like Batman: little boys under little masks, crying about their dead mommies."_

_"What I don't know is if you've taken_ ** _yours_** _off!"_

" _You're not a superhero. You're a_ ** _spy._** _With a gun. You're not Wing-Knight or Nightwing or whatever. You're_ ** _Agent 37_** _."_

Agent 8's sharp voice still echoed in his mind, her words pointing out a few truths. It made Dick question himself. 

He shook his head, not wanting to delve too deeply into it. He was only here to get information and stop Spyral's plans. That's it. Once he was done, he could ditch and pretend any of this ever happened. He could go back to being Dick Grayson, who—

Who was dead. According to the world. Including his family, the people closest to him.

_Liar,_ Dick thought to himself. _You're a terrible brother and friend._

He was doing this for Bruce, he reminded himself. This was the only way he could help after having his identity exposed. 

_Yeah,_ Dick assured himself, _this whole Agent 37 thing isn't_ that _bad. Just keep your cool, report info to Bruce, and make sure Spyral doesn't find out more about heroes' identities. Everything will be fine._

It was that mindset that made Dick feel a little better after Agent 8's death. 

Unfortunately the feeling didn't last. If agent work conflicted Dick before, it was nothing compared to now. Now that he held a gun in his hands, and stared as a bloodied body crumbled to the ground before him. 

_No._

"Great work, Agent 37!" The matron praised, running up to him from behind to behold to dying man. "You did it! You made a killing blow!"

Agent 37 was frozen in shock, his eyes the size of saucers. He—he hadn't intended to shoot the man in the chest. He meant to shoot him in the leg. It's just that the target was getting away with the briefcase, and he panicked and—

"Agent 1, the mission was a success. We have the brief case. Agent 37 was the one to stop the target before he could run off," The matron informed, a pleased smile directed towards said man.

"Agent 37, good job. I knew you could do it," Agent 1 said, approaching the scene. 

"No..." Agent 37 muttered. He took a step forward to do _something_ to help the man. To stop the blood loss; to apologize—just _something_. The matron quickly put a hand on his shoulder and held him back, the look in her eye sympathetic. 

"Dick, I know this is hard for you, but can't you see? This is a _good_ thing. You're becoming a real agent," she informed. "I'm proud. Really."

Dick knew that he was praise-starved because of Bruce's lack of positive feedback throughout his childhood, but this? A man lied on the dirty floor, dead, because of _him_. And his chest tightened in response to the approval he received because of it. It was disgusting. He felt sick and numb at the same time. He couldn't even speak; bile rose up his throat and his fingers trembled.

Tiger crossed his arms and said, "now we can rest easy knowing you won't have our partners killed because of your weakness again." 

_Weakness_. _Again._

Agent 37 shrugged Helena's hand off his shoulder and walked away before he reacted inappropriately. He didn't know whether that meant throwing a punch or crying, but either one was bad. 

And he just needed to get away from the sight of that corpse. 

___________

Dick sat at his desk, crouched onto the wooden future as his hands curled in his thick, dark hair. 

He just _killed_ someone. 

Just for some _stupid_ double agent mission. 

He ended a precious life... He broke Batman's biggest rule. Hell, Batman didn't even approve the usage of guns in the first place. 

He went past his _own morals_. 

_It was an accident_! Dick reminded himself.

But it didn't change what he did. It didn't bring back that man back. It didn't give that victim his future back. What if he had a family waiting for him to return home?

Dick croaked a sad, sardonic chuckle at the cruelty of one thing.

He couldn't even remember the man's name. 

...

Dick needed Bruce. Before all his walls crumbled and he ended up more confused and scared than ever. 

He rapidly stumbled for his communication device, and called Bruce.

No one answered.

After a few minutes of no response at all, Dick gave up. He slowly lowered the communication device onto the desk as if stalling the action would mean there was more of a chance Bruce would suddenly reply. He didn't even notice that his fingers shook violently as he did so.

He stared at the wall emptily before finally breaking down. He released the fountain in his eyes, drawing blood from the force that he bit his lips with to keep his sobs to himself. His scalped burned from the excessive tugging of his hair, but he relished in the feeling. It was the only feeling he could find comfort in due to its familiarity. 

Dick was drowning in guilt. 

He was scared. Of _himself_. Of who he might become. Who he was _already_ becoming. 

A liar. A Murderer. He wasn't as easily trusting anymore; something that had always separated him from Batman.

And now he had to go through this change alone. 

The walls seemed to loom over him, despite the fact that his dorm room was small. They seemed to get closer and closer, _trapping_ him in.

Dick wanted to go home. 

But would Bruce accept him once he found out?

The thought made Dick freeze, his crying halting quickly. 

Dick was "The Golden Child." To just about anyone, he was the purest of the batfamily, and the most firm believer of justice. He could always see the good in people. He could always keep things positive; always looking forward. Out of all of the family, he was the least likely to kill.

At least, that's what everyone _thought._

Once Bruce found out, he wouldn't consider Dick that golden child anymore. He'd be another murderer, wouldn't he? He and Bruce would have the same relationship Jason and Bruce had. 

And once Dick announced that he was actually alive, how would Jason, Tim, and Barbara react? Of course they'd be a little mad that he was actually alive, but they'd be livid and feel betrayed if they found out he'd _killed_ someone. 

Jason would call him a hypocrite. 

Tim would say that he should quit the hero business.

Barbara... she'd be disappointed. Maybe more sympathetic than mad. She'd feel pity upon seeing how the world twisted her friend. Disappointed that he wasn't strong enough to keep his hands clean.

No.

It was awful, it really was. It made Dick a terrible, terrible person. He'd never forgive himself. 

But he would not tell anyone what he'd done. Not Bruce, nor Jason, Tim, or Barbara. 

Dick didn't want that look they'd give him, and he wouldn't get it because they just wouldn't know. 

The man pulled his fingers out of his hair and got up from his seat.

Enough crying. He was an agent. He'd act like one. 

He'd play the Agent 37 role. As long as it got the mission done and over with once and for all.

* * *

After Mr. Minos's death, Helena took control of Spyral and became the new director. 

Dick would miss having her as his matron. 

Well, that was a stupid thought. They were never very close in the first place. Helena was just an ally.

Besides, his mission was over now. He could go _home_. The only issue was that Bruce wasn't responding. It worried Dick to no end. 

A while after Helena's promotion, Dick quit Spyral. 

There was too much distrust. That was the case before, too, but now they had some strange body controlling elements going on. Dick wanted no part of it. 

He could finally say goodbye to Agent 37. 

__________

Bruce had amnesia. 

It was so unsettling to see the man so... carefree. 

Maybe it was... a good thing this happened. Bruce was a burdened man; he could never get his mind out of the past. Now, he he couldn't even remember it. For the first time in years, he wasn't thinking about the death of his parents, or the death of Damian and everyone he's failed to save.

He was just Bruce Wayne. 

It was a shame Dick had to wear a disguise to talk to him, but it was nice seeing his mentor nonetheless.

As usual, the moment was interrupted. 

The windows shattered, the glass shards flying into the air, as a woman using Spyral technology burst in.

She claimed that she was Agent zero—which was pretty cool if Dick was being honest—and said that he was to go back "home."

Ew. As if _Spyral_ could ever be his home. 

Still, she threatened to tell the world that Batman was Bruce Wayne if he didn't comply. That gave Dick no choice. He'd _have_ to return to Spyral to keep Bruce's secret. Even if the man himself couldn't even remember it existed.

At least Agent zero also allowed him to tell his family he was alive. This opened an opportunity. Too bad he'd have to say goodbye way too soon. 

__________

Dick sent a vague message to Jason and Tim through the Bat computer to meetup. He didn't say much other than that it was Dick. 

Once he drove to the city on his motorcycle, still in Agent 37 clothing, he parked his vehicle and searched for two of his brothers. He found Red Hood and Red Robin on a rooftop. 

"God, Dick," Red Robin breathed in disbelief. "It really _is_ you. You're _alive_."

Dick smiled at him until Jason abruptly cut in with a sharp, "What the _hell_ , Dick?"

The Agent's smile melted. "Look, I know you're mad—"

"Damn _right_ I'm mad," Jason replied, talking off his mask to reveal his deep frown and furrowed brows. "We thought you were _dead_ , damn it. Out of all people... how could you do that to us?" They had an unspoken bond, and Dick lying to them ruined that.

Dick let out a remorseful sigh. "Jason, Tim, I didn't _want_ to do this. Bruce fought me and then told me that this was how I could prove myself and _help._ I wanted to come sooner but—"

"Oh, _shut up_!"

_SMACK._

Dick hit the floor from the impact of the slap, his cheek flaring with sudden pain.

This wasn't how he expected things to turn out. Sure, he knew they'd be mad, especially Jason, but this was a little much. 

"I went to your _funeral,_ Damn it!" Jason barked. "Do you even know how your death affected us? It was awful, Dick. And then Bruce got amnesia. Things haven't really been all that great here in Gotham, and meanwhile, you've been playing _spy_?!"

"I _wanted_ to tell you," Dick insisted earnestly as he slowly got up. 

"You didn't have to do what Bruce wanted, Dick," Red Robin argued. "Us Robins stick together, but you forgot about that. Do you even trust us anymore? Can we trust _you_?" 

"Of course you can!" Dick exclaimed. "Guys, I'm still the same Dick you knew before all of this. I know what I did was wrong, but you have to understand that I didn't really have too many options to choose from once my identity was revealed."

"Trusting us was an option," Red Robin said. "You chose not to. You chose Bruce instead. Maybe you _have_ changed. I wouldn't be surprised after you've spent almost a whole year working for a spy organization."

Jason slightly glared at Dick, Red Robin's comment enough to express his own anger and thoughts. 

Dick was internally panicking. Could they sense that something was off with him? No, no, they couldn't know what he did. He didn't want them to reject him. Well, more than they already were that is. 

_They're just mad,_ Dick told himself. Yes, they needed to cool off, and everything would be fine between them. They might be untrusting of him now, but that didn't mean they would suddenly be suspecting him of murder anytime soon. 

So he told them the hidden message and left, moving onto Barbara, hoping her reaction would be a little less harsh. 

It would be nice if someone gave him a little bit affection to show that he was missed.

"You're kidding," Batgirl sighed. "I can't. I literally can't do this, Dick." 

Dick winced. "I'm sorry, Babs. I _really_ am."

The redhead turned to look to peer over the bridge, a frustrated expression prominent on her face. " _Of course_ you're alive. _Of course_ you faked it all. Why am I not surprised? I should be, but I'm not. Maybe I'm just used to you disappointing me. And not just me, but everyone; the whole family." 

Her words struck painfully into his heart. Barbara's opinions always meant a lot to Dick. They were close, and to be told off like this definitely wasn't what he was hoping for. 

Maybe he'd always be a disappointment to her. 

"Bruce told me to," Dick said. It sounded like such a weak retort to even him. So what if Bruce told him to? Had he really been that compliant? Dick knew it was a horrible thing to do to his family, but he did it anyway. That's was what he did, he burdened himself for the sake of his loved ones. Even if he knew they'd be mad. 

It just hurt to have all that weight on his shoulders, and no one to ask if he needed a hand. 

"Right, because you'll do anything Batman asks," Batgirl stated coldly. "You're still latching onto him. You really can't say no to him, can you? You've changed a lot, but in a way, you're still the same as when you were Robin."

She moved to jump but Dick grabbed her hand before she could. 

She wrenched her hand away, but Dick quickly told her the hidden message. She nodded with silent understanding and jumped away without another word. 

Dick didn't follow. For the first time since he'd known her, he felt like she wouldn't catch him.

"You're _alive_?" Dick questioned, his whole world stopping upon seeing the boy in front of him.

The same seemed to go for Damian, as his mouth was parted wide, and he was rigid in shock. " _You're_ alive?"

They ran to hug each other, and it was the best feeling Dick had in a _long_ time. 

Then the hands embracing Dick became tense. Damian pulled away, his relieved smile replaced with a hurt frown. "Grayson," Robin said. "How could this be? You said—I was under the impression that you trusted us."

"No, Damian, don't get the wrong idea. Of _course_ I trust you guys," Dick answered. "It's just that this was a huge deal, and I had to get straight into action. Super secret stuff."

Robin stepped back from Dick. There were harsh wrinkles forming above his mask, indicating that the boy was getting angry. "I know that I was dead when you joined, but if you told family, then they would've informed me of your situation once I came back. Then we could've _helped_ you. Why do you insist on doing everything alone?"

"I wasn't alone. Completely," Dick assured. "Bruce was helping me out."

"Perhaps, but he now he has amnesia. What if you needed immediate assistance, Grayson? Who would you have asked?"

Dick faltered. "I—I—"

"No one," Damian answered for him. "Because you _don't_ trust us. I thought you trusted just about anyone, but it appears I was wrong. You resemble father quite well in that aspect. I truly did think you were different—that you were our— _my_ brother."

"Damian—"

"Enough. You've said your hello. You can now leave," the boy snapped, his voice hard.

Damian didn't understand. Dick _did_ trust them. He just... he couldn't take any risks. But maybe Damian would understand that once he got through the shock and betrayal. So Dick swallowed thickly and, for the last time, said his hidden message. 

"I see..." is what Damian mumbled in response. 

"I gotta go, little D," Dick informed, using the nickname in an attempt to cheer up the atmosphere between them.

But Damian huffed and walked away without as so much as a goodbye. 

_What have I done_? Dick thought to himself.

* * *

It was funny how Helena, with her professional personality and demeanor, seemed to be the happiest to have Dick return to them. Why was someone who was supposed to be his enemy more glad to see him than his family?

Dick got examined and was sent on a mission shortly after. 

The batfamily appeared to figure out the cluemaster's code, because before Dick knew it, he was in contact with Tim. Though still distant, he did help Dick out. It felt good to talk to someone from home, even if it was for only a few seconds. 

He wondered if Tim and the others felt the same way about him. 

__________

Dick felt like he was spending his Agent 37 days under a rock.

Apparently something called The Robin War was going on in Gotham—which immediately intrigued Dick—and he was needed as soon as possible.

So during a mission, Dick sped up the process by being less spy-like, and instead, more Nightwing-in-a-rush-like by Kicking the target through and out a window.

A little brash, sure. Violent, too, yes. But Dick got a call to Gotham, and he'd prioritize that over Spyral any day. 

It was a boring mission anyways, and if there was a Robin War going happening, Dick needed to be play a part of it. 

After all, he was the first and original Robin.

__________

A bunch of untrained children were claiming they were Robin. 

Dick knew this was bad the moment he understood the situation. There was no way he'd allow them to do this. It was too dangerous. They didn't understand the true danger they were putting themselves in. 

It was a good thing Dick knew just what to do. 

He and the others taught the kids a few vital moves. They expressed what it meant to be Robin. Then, when Dick knew the time was right, he told everyone what to do—where to go.

He was doing it again. Lying—manipulating. It came too easily now. He _had_ to do it. He needed to protect these kids and make sure they were safe. At least, safer than they would be on the streets in red.

When Dick and Duke were on the rooftop of the Robinson building—when the cops found them all—Duke figured it out. 

"You—you manipulated all of us! Just to put us away! Tuck us in safe, like we were all your _damn_ kids!" Duke exclaimed in a revelation. 

He betrayed his family. _Again_. 

Dick half turned to him and forced a smile. "Batman once said to me that being Robin was about one thing. Family."

With that, he jumped off the building, saying, "And I _take care_ of my family."

Even if it meant betraying them, loosing their trust, or even his life.

__________

All of this was happening because of him. 

The real person—or organization, to be exact—behind the Robin War was The Parliament of Owls. 

Dick didn't even _know_ there was a _parliament_ of Owls. As if The Court of Owls wasn't enough to worry about. 

They wanted him. They wanted their "Gray Son." It infuriated Dick. They wanted him to be their weapon; their _pawn_. Dick was sick and tired of being a player in other people's wicked schemes. He didn't _want_ to be their damn _Talon._

Right as Dick was about to tell Lincoln March off _again_ , the undead man slyly said, "you really were meant to be our Talon. You already proved you can kill easily."

Dick paused, with his eyes wide. "H-how..."

Lincoln smirked and let out a small chuckle. "The Parliament knows everything about you, Gray Son. That's more than your 'family' can say. They don't know, do they? No, of course. You want them to believe that you're still one of the 'good guys.'"

The sound of blood rushing filled Dick's ears. He clenched his fists angrily, and growled, "I _am_ one of the good guys."

Lincoln raised a brow. "Oh, don't _lie_ to me now. We both know that heroes don't kill. If you really believed you were still one of them, you wouldn't be so upset at the truth. You would've told the other members of the bat clan."

_Damn it._

_He's right._

Dick hated that. 

"Dick Grayson, I was going to do much more to have you join us, but I think this will do," Lincoln declared. "Join The Parliament of Owls, and we will keep your secret and prevent our elite talons from destroying the city. That sounds like a fair offer, doesn't it?"

He'd be giving himself up. Working with the enemy behind his family's back. 

Then again, he'd do anything to keep his family safe. His dark secret, too, he supposed.

"Deal."

__________

"Where the hell _were you_ Dick?" Jason questioned when they all regrouped at the batcave.

"I was getting evidence to use against councilwoman Noctur," Dick half-lied. "Since the Robin laws were a part of her plan to join the Parliament of Owls. Other than that, though, not much."

Tim, who usually kept calm, stomped towards Dick and pushed a pointed finger onto the older man's chest. "You _betrayed_ us, Dick. You left us to get locked up in _cages_!"

"I'm with Tim on this one," Jason said. "Whatever happened to you telling us things? To being a team? Every since you became an spy agent, you've kept things from us nonstop. You're always _lying._ You've changed _._ "

"You'll say that you did it to protect us, but even I can say that it's not appropriate for you to treat us like this. We're heroes, too, we could have managed without your unnecessary interference. Your new way of working is uncalled for. Here, you are not an agent," Damian informed. 

With his three brothers piling complaints and accusations against him, Dick didn't know what to say. He believed that he did what he had to do. 

"Guys, I..." What was the point? They didn't understand that Dick would do anything for them. 

They were right about one thing, though. He had changed. There was no denying it.

He was spiraling downwards and all he was receiving were scolding. He needed help, but then again, he didn't want to drag them down with him. 

"I'm sorry, guys," Dick quietly said. "I did what I thought was necessary." With that, he walked away, ready to return to Spyral and encounter an angry Helena. 

__________

A lot happened in Spyral after that. 

A man named Dr. Daedalus took over Helena's body and mind until Dick offered himself in exchange for her freedom. He somehow managed to win the mental battle. After, Dick was able to be Nightwing again. 

Before he and Helena parted ways, Helena told him that he would always be amazing. It made Dick feel confused and almost sad, because he didn't feel the same. He felt like that statement contributed to everyone's expectations of him to be great. To be that golden child. 

To him, it was too late for that. He wasn't the same after being a spy. 

Helena of all people would know that well. 

__________

"How long will you be gone for?" Batman questioned. 

"I don't know," Dick answered truthfully. 

He told Batman that he was going on a mission. He didn't tell him about the Parliament of Owls. He didn't tell _anyone_. 

Lying was becoming the norm with Dick. It hurt, but what else could he do?

Thankfully, Batman didn't push, and Damian only said not to die. Barbara, however, asked a lot of questioned. Dick replied with many half lies and half truths. The redhead gave him yet another disappointed look. 

He supposed he deserved it, but he was getting used to it. 

Dick was just glad he could wear his Nightwing suit again. Maybe it'd help him return to who he used to be. 

__________

Everyday that Dick had to do the Parliament's bidding was tedious to say the least. They weren't too fond that he was dressed as Nightwing, and he had to put his acting skills to use. Make it seem like he was being held on a leash. 

Dick would infiltrate the Parliament of Owls and make sure he stopped their plans. After Spyral he was a little too experienced in this type of work. 

Not a good sign. 

__________

Then he met Raptor. 

Now, Raptor: he was an interesting guy. 

He could crack a joke, which was certainly... _rare_. Normally, that was Dick's thing. 

He also claimed that everything Batman taught Dick was wrong. He wanted to be Dick's new mentor. That seemed absurd at first. Raptor was a thief, outlaw, and worse. What would _he_ know compared to _Batman_?

Surprisingly, though, he _did_ teach Dick a few things. He was actually quite similar to him. 

But that made things complicated. Morally, at least. 

Raptor had a different way of doing things. He told Dick that he should play for the long game. That sometimes you had to make _sacrifices_ to play the long game. 

Dick began to believe it. Usually, it was because he trusted too easily, but now, he had trust issues, so it wasn't because of that. 

He didn't want to accept the fact that it was because he agreed with Raptor. The guy had a few good points. 

Before they split after their mission for The Parliament was complete, Raptor brought Nightwing somewhere private and said, "let's betray them."

Nightwing rolled his eyes. "You think I haven't been planning that already?"

"Sure you have, but I bet it isn't in the way I'm suggesting," Raptor hinted. 

Nightwing stared at him until it clicked. "No. _No_ , Raptor. We have them arrested so that they can be prosecuted, and justice can be served to the families that have suffered by their hand."

"Damn it, Dick. You _know_ that they'll just be released because of their money!" Raptor argued. 

"Y-you know my name?" Nightwing questioned, now gaping. 

"I've known for a while, 'Wing," Raptor said. "Anyways, the rich always get a slap on the wrist. Us circus folk would _never_ get that treatment. They treat us like dirt. Let's see how _they_ like it."

"Maybe they do get special treatment, but I won't kill in cold blood, and I won't _let you_ do it either!" Nightwing roared. He sent a punch towards Raptor's face. The criminal dodged the fist and shoved Dick against a wall. 

"You _can't_ tell me you've never wanted to kill someone. You seriously _can not_!" Raptor claimed. 

Nightwing bared his teeth. "No, I can't. But the reason I have never done—" he froze, with a shocked and disappointed expression on his face as he remembered that he _had_ killed someone before. 

"What?" Raptor interrogated. "What is it? Don't tell me...you _have_?" 

Nightwing shoved Raptor away. "I'm taking the Book of Wisdom, Raptor. Don't try to stop me."

Raptor didn't. He only watched Nightwing walk away angrily. 

__________

Raptor had rigged the Book Of Wisdom and sold the Owl's names to Kobra. The Sydney Owls were all found dead. It was not a pretty sight. 

Nightwing went after Raptor, who tried to validate his actions. After some fighting, Raptor drugged him.

_Everything hurts._

Sweat ran down his face as he wheezed. He couldn't move. Sound around him was distant. 

The vigilante hardly heard the words, "you need someone to take _everything_ away from you," before he lost consciousness. 

Everything went black.

* * *

Raptor took Bruce. 

He strapped him to a device that held a sharpened silver spoon over his heart. When Wayne Tech's stock price reached two hundred dollars, the spoon would automatically plunge into Bruce's heart.

Nightwing arrived the scene and fought Raptor before that could happen. While they fought, the billionaire took out a hidden pick from his mouth and undid the lock keeping him bound to the machine. 

He was always prepared and a quick thinker.

Then, before the stock price hit two hundred, Bruce jumped from the machine, knowing Dick would catch him.

Dick always caught who ever fell. That's just who he was. 

Nightwing moved to run for the man, his arms extended to jump and catch Bruce, but a hand gripped his foot and pulled him back. 

Nightwing stumbled and fell, face-planting into the ground. 

And then—

CRACK _._

_NO._

Nightwing sharply gasped and hesitantly—slowly—raised his head to looked up.

_This isn't happening, this isn't happening, this_ isn't _happening._

But it _did_ already happen, faster than Dick could comprehend. 

Bruce was sprawled on the ground, eyes still open, head facing Dick, as crimson red blood leaked from his body. His arms and legs were twisted abnormally. 

The sight was all too familiar. Dick could still see the circus tent with its colorful colors, a light focused right on the center, where the bodies lied. This time, though, it was Bruce in that spotlight. 

Disgust bubbled deep in Dick's stomach, and he vomited.

"Oh shit," Raptor said from behind. "He was supposed to get stabbed, not fall." 

No matter what happened, Bruce always got back up. He'd always return to protect Gotham. He was Dick's mentor—a father figure. Even though he seldom showed that he trusted anyone, even Dick.

Except for this one time, and it cost Bruce his life. 

It was all Dick's fault.

He was shaking uncontrollably, and the tears slipping out of his eyes went unnoticed. The only thought that went through his mind was: _Bruce is dead._

A hand gently brushed Dick's shoulder. Before Raptor could even blink, Dick tackled and pinned him down. 

" _You killed Bruce_!" Dick yelled. "I should _kill you_!" His hands wrapped around the criminal's throat threateningly, his nails digging into the man's skin. 

"Dick!" Raptor exclaimed. "Let's talk!" 

" _Shut up_!" Dick barked. "You _killed_ Bruce! You don't _deserve_ to talk! _Ever again_." His hands tightened around Raptor's throat.

Raptor squirmed and croaked, "you're gonna kill me right in front of Bruce. He w-wouldn't want th-at."

His words rang true to Dick, who was in a haze of fury. He blinked in shock and loosened his hands immediately. Then, he finally got off of Raptor. He sat on the ground, staring at his hands.

As much as he hated it, Raptor was right. Bruce wouldn't want Dick to kill Raptor, especially right in front of his dead body. 

Anger slowly left Dick, and it was replaced with confusion and numbness. 

Raptor got up into a sitting position across from Dick. He observed the younger man's vulnerable mental state, and carefully said, "Dick, hear me out."

Dick didn't say anything. He just kept looking at his gloved hands, his chin trembling as he did so.

"Bruce _took_ you. The circus was your home, and he took you away from it. He brought the acrobat boy with itchy feet to a whole new environment. People expected you to be a perfect, well mannered boy. Bruce brainwashed you into believing his screwed up version of Justice where the rich got away without paying for their consequences," Raptor explained cautiously. "It's a nice thought, Dick, but it doesn't work. Bruce didn't understand that. He thought that disposing of the guilty was the worst crime ever. If you ever killed someone, he would have sent you to jail with the others." 

That comment caused tears to slid down Dick's cheek. He ripped off his mask, not caring if anyone saw his face while he was still in his Nightwing suit. "I... I did it," he whimpered. 

Raptor took off his own mask, his golden eyes meeting Dick's blue ones. "what did you do?"

Dick sniffled. "I killed someone." 

Silence.

Raptor cocked his head to the side. "When."

"A while ago. I was undercover as a spy. In Spyral. It was an accident. I panicked. Everyone was proud of me," Dick informed, his voice quiet and disconnected. It felt like a lifetime ago. Everything felt like it happened in another life now that Bruce was gone. 

Raptor scooted closer to Dick and out a hand on his shoulder again. "Dick, it's okay. You don't have to be like Bruce and think that you deserve to feel guilty if you kill someone. Sure, if they were innocent, you can be sad for a little bit, but then get you over it. If they _weren't_ innocent, then you celebrate. It really makes life easier for people like us. People who do bad things to bad people in order to help the _good_ people." 

"But Bruce said—"

"Enough about Bruce. See, this is what I mean. You can't do a damn thing without thinking about what he would do, or what he would think," Raptor stated. "He was flawed, Dick. Like every other person in the planet. He was _wrong_. It's about time you stepped out of his mindset. Come on."

Raptor stood up and offered Dick a hand. Dick looked up at the hand skeptically. This was the hand of the man who killed Bruce. 

Maybe it was because of the grief clouding his judgement that he accepted the hand. Maybe he just didn't care anymore. He couldn't tell. It didn't matter to him either way. 

Once Dick was on his own two feet, Raptor put an arm around his shoulder and guided him away from Bruce's lifeless body. 

__________

Dick didn't return home.

He and Raptor changed out of their suits and stayed the night at nearby motel. They each got their own beds, though they still shared a room. 

Dick hardly got a wink of sleep. He spent almost the whole night sobbing into his pillow. If Raptor could hear him crying, he didn't show it. He gave Dick as much space as a person sharing the same room could. 

Dick knew he should hate Raptor, and maybe he did, but he didn't feel like it. 

He just didn't want to be alone.

Bruce's body was most likely found by now. Everyone must have been devastated. Jason, Tim, Damian, and Barbara especially. 

Dick wondered if they were looking for him. After all, he did just disappear from the scene. 

They probably hated him. His relationship with all his brothers and Barbara was already getting rocky. After this, they would blame him. He was the reason Bruce got taken in the first place. Dick was the reason Bruce died.

Dick killed Bruce. 

Dick was a murderer, even before he killed Bruce. 

"Get up," Raptor ordered as early as dawn. "We're leaving." 

Dick remained lying on his side, his back facing Raptor. "Who are you?"

"What?"

"You're from the circus and you knew my mom. I remember seeing you one time when I was a kid," Dick said as he turned to face Raptor. "Who _are_ you? What's your name?" 

Raptor, who was currently massless, blinked at the question. Then he lowered his brows and said, "Richard. That's my name. My name is Richard."

That was... awkward. Did his mom name him after this guy? 

"But you can just call me Raptor if that's too weird or confusing," Raptor said. "Now get up. We're going to Gotham, and we're killing some Owls."

Dick gave him a confused look. "What? The Parliament?"

Raptor shook his head. "No, first we're dealing with The Court. Mainly to make a point, but also because it's personal. They've been demanding for you to be their Talon for a while now, right?"

"Yes," Dick answered softly. 

"Well, you can make them stop persisting after you. Permanently. However you want. You don't even have to kill them," Raptor assured. "And breakfast is on me."

Dick was being given a choice. He liked that. He _needed_ it, really. 

He got up from the low quality bed, and both of them got ready. 

This was a good thing, right? Something to take Dick's mind off of... just everything. Something—or somebody—that Dick could take all of his anger, sadness, and confusion on. 

__________

Talons came running at Nightwing and Raptor the moment they entered the Labyrinth. 

Before they could attack, Nightwing spoke up with, "Wait! Your Gray Son wants to negotiate some things. Let me speak to The Court."

The Talons looked at each other uneasily, but eventually nodded at Nightwing. "Alright, Gray Son, but you are very foolish if you are here to stir trouble."

"Yeah, yeah," Nightwing replied. Raptor followed closely behind him. 

They walked through the long, narrow passages until they were lead to a room. A group of woman and men in typical owl masks turned to look at him.

"What is the meaning of this?" A woman asked. 

"The Gray Son wishes to negotiate with The Court of Owls," the Talon that guided them answered. 

"You imbecile!" A man harshly exclaimed. "You are to inform us first. You don't just lead two armed men into our private meeting rooms!"

"I apologize sincerely," the Talon quickly said, ducking his head in shame. Raptor took the opportunity to elbow him behind the head, causing the Talon to collapse onto the ground. Then, while the Talon was taken by surprise, Raptor hit him with a dart filled with Nitrogen. 

Suddenly, Raptor jumped at the members of the Court and mauled their faces through their mask with the claws of his Suyolak. 

Dick stood there, stunned at what he was seeing. 

"Come on, don't you wanna give them a punch at least?" Raptor asked with a smug grin as he dug a sharp claw into a screaming woman's towards throat. "You've gotta hurry up before I get them all if you want a chance at getting justice." 

Dick's surprise quickly transitioned into repulsion as he heard the woman's screams become mere gurgling sounds. As he beheld the fear and violence in the room. 

He came to destroy the Court of Owls, but he didn't realize it would be like this.

Raptor had his limits but, clearly, giving the enemy any mercy was not one of them. This was cold blooded murder. 

His twisted view of justice. 

Just like how he thought it was justice to kill Bruce. 

_Right,_ Dick thought. _That asshole killed Bruce, and here I am working with him the very next day._

Dick must have been loosing his mind. He really didn't understand his own thoughts and feelings anymore. One day everything was normal, the next he was numb, like nothing in the world mattered. 

He didn't have Bruce to help him anymore. 

He and Bruce became distant as Dick got older, but he recalled the times when Bruce would read him a bed time story after he'd have a nightmare. Or when Bruce thanked Dick for being a good Batman while he was unavailable. 

Dick would never see Bruce's eyes glint with determination ever again. He'd never hear his gravely voice, or feel like hand clasp his shoulder again. 

It was Raptor's fault. 

He killed Bruce and tried to manipulate Dick into thinking it was okay. He took advantage of Dick's lack of clarity when he was easily susceptible. 

Dick leaned down towards the unconscious Talon and took one of his killing knifes as the members of the Court pleaded for their lives. Their screamed echoed the underground room.

Raptor thought that getting justice meant killing the bad people?

Fine. 

"Yeah, I want a chance at getting 'justice'," Dick said darkly as he approached Raptor. 

Raptor spared Dick a glance. He smirked when he saw the knife in Dick's hand and turned towards him. "Hey, I knew you'd come arou- AGH!" 

A droplet of blood hit the floor. 

Then another. 

And then it became a stream of blood that was running down to the floor. 

"W-Why?" Raptor asked hoarsely as he eyed the knife hilt deep into his heart. 

Dick pulled the knife out and watched Raptor stumble to the ground as deep red blood poured nonstop out of the wound in his chest. "You know why. Like I'd forgive you that easily."

Raptor seemed at a loss for words. "You... you're only supposed to kill the bad guys."

"Raptor, you _are_ a bad guy," Dick stated grimly.

The older man looked up at him with surprise and regret evident on his face. His expression relaxed slightly, his eyes beneath the mask becoming glassy, and that was it. Those golden eyes never blinked again. He was as still as stone.

Dick heaved a great, burdened sigh. 

A faint sound came from underneath the conference table. Dick walked towards the bloody bodies and found one person still breathing. They were shaking, in fact.

"Get up," Dick commanded.

The woman whimpered and obeyed. She clasped her hands together and blubbered, "please... I beg you to spare me. I'll grant you anything you want. Money, power—"

"No," Dick sighed. "Stop it. I'm not going to kill you."

The woman, who had tears streaming down her face, gave a relieved exhale. "Thank you. Thank you." 

"Uh-huh. Now, listen closely," Dick said threateningly. "You're not gonna have _anyone_ bail you out in prison. If someone tries to, you say that it'll put your life at risk. If I found out that you were bailed out, I'll _find_ you. I don't appreciate people who don't respect life debts." 

The woman nodded vigorously. "Yes, I understand. I will do my time, Gray S— er, I mean, Nightwing!" 

Dick squinted at her behind the mask, and she shifted uncomfortably because of it, but he just shrugged it off and ran a hand through his hair. 

After everything that's happened, Dick didn't know if he wanted to be a superhero anymore. He didn't know if he _could_. 

"Erm, excuse me, Nightwing," the woman spoke up, still shaky from the attack she barely survived. "What are you going to do now that you've killed Raptor?"

Dick glanced down and his gloved hands that were stained with Raptor's blood. "I don't know. I really don't know." 

__________

Nightwing dropped the woman off at the police department. The woman admitted to everything and swore to plead guilty. 

After that, Nightwing left Gotham. 

He knew it was wrong to keep away from his family after what happened to Bruce, but Dick needed some time to find his identity again. He just needed to learn how to trust again. He needed to be able to blink without seeing the bodies of those who have died because of him. 

He didn't know where he'd go. Maybe he'd visit Metropolis, a much brighter city. Or maybe he'd just go wherever he was needed. 

Because at the end of the day, vigilante or not, Dick still wanted to help people. It just might not ever be the same way again.

He needed to reconnect with himself. With regular Dick Grayson. The Dick Grayson who always smiled, made awful jokes, and trusted others deeply. 

He wanted to trust again, but without being naive. He wanted to help others, but without hurting others and himself while doing so.

Bludhaven it was then.


End file.
